


Paper Planes

by Maiden_of_Asgard



Category: Loki - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Ending, F/M, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Frostbite AU, Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, King Loki (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-20 06:09:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17616971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiden_of_Asgard/pseuds/Maiden_of_Asgard
Summary: Loki Laufeyson, King of Jotunheim, considers himself masterful at very many things. Unfortunately, bargaining with his mortal is not one of them.*A Frostbite Series AU*





	Paper Planes

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little oneshot AU, set somewhere in a possible future to the Frostbite world. It’s based on a prompt I received on Tumblr - the idea of paper airplanes on Jotunheim was too cute to resist! 💙

Jotunheim had a _horrifically_ complicated method of taxation, in Loki Laufeyson’s expert opinion. He scanned the scroll for the fifth time in as many minutes, the squiggly handwriting of whatever unfortunate scribe had been called upon to make these hasty records causing his head to pound.

Perhaps he should hand this latest bothersome task over to Býleistr. The boy could certainly use something to keep him occupied and out of the way.

Loki noticed that his fingertips were turning faintly blue, and he grimaced; all of this constant shifting between forms seemed to be taking a toll. It was exhausting, and frankly, he couldn’t bear to see his own reflection when his birth-form was peeking through. His fist clenched. Sometimes, he wondered how his mortal managed to bear sleeping by his side.

Something flew towards his face, then, and Loki automatically snatched it out of the air, scowling at the aforementioned mortal who sat buried under a heap of blankets by the fire, an innocent smile on her face. “What is this?” he asked, uncrumpling the crushed paper, which was covered with her very-precise little runes, copies of the lines he’d had her practicing, vaguely annoyed to discover that he’d gotten ink on his fingers.

“You looked really serious,” she said, “and I thought maybe you could use a distraction. Plus, I haven’t made a paper plane in a long time.” She shrugged. “Wanted to see if I could hit a target?”

He leaned back in his seat, drumming his fingers on his desk. “And the target?” he asked, hoping that he managed to sound appropriately stern. _Norns,_ but he found it nearly impossible to be _appropriately stern_ with her.

“Um… your head.”

_Do not laugh,_ he told himself. _Do not laugh._ “Come here.”

She gathered her ridiculous blankets around her and shuffled over to his side, and after hesitating for a moment, she settled herself onto his lap. Loki tried to act as though it had no effect on him, but the wretched creature likely knew _exactly_ what she was doing.

“I bet you can’t beat me in a paper plane contest,” she declared, a playful challenge in her voice.

“Oh, you’re looking to _wager,_ are you?”

“Mhmm. And it’s for a good cause - the twins want to come with me when I go back home for Christmas.”

_Damn it._ He should’ve known that some outrageous request had been coming. “Absolutely not,” he replied, “particularly considering the fact that I’ve yet to give even _you_ permission to return to Midgard for this holiday of yours—”

_“Please?_ They’d keep me safe, too, and you _know_ it.”

There wasn’t much that he could say to that. His little mortal’s companions were bizarrely loyal, somehow. Loki did not entirely understand how _that_ had happened, but he was grateful for it. It couldn’t hurt to pretend to entertain the idea, could it? After all, even if they did play her games, Loki was certain that he would win. “Supposing I _did_ agree to wager with you, what is the game?”

She rolled her eyes. “I make a plane, and you make a plane, and then we throw the planes. The one that goes the farthest wins.”

“And if I win?”

“You won’t,” she replied brazenly, “but if you _do…”_  

Leaning close, she whispered softly in his ear, and Loki felt his pulse quicken. _Minx._ He cleared his throat, shifting slightly in his seat. “Very well,” he said.

“And no magic,” she declared, her eyes sparkling. “Don’t forget that I’ll be able to tell.”

Loki sighed - the bond, once again rearing its ugly head. “I haven’t forgotten.” He doubted that he would _need_ magic, in any case. “Go on, darling.”

“I need more paper. Did you get that trade deal settled with Alfheim yet, by the way?”

He pulled out a few more sheets from the drawer on his desk, holding her snugly in his lap so that she didn’t take a tumble as he moved. “No, but it is only because the queen and I are not… _fond_ of each other. Her court will convince her.”

“Hmm.” She began to fold one of the sheets of paper on the desk, carefully lining up the corners to make perfect, neat little creases. “I’ll be nice and show you how it’s done, just to give you a fighting chance.”

“I’m _overwhelmed_ with gratitude,” he remarked dryly, but in truth, he _was_ carefully watching her clever little fingers as she worked - he _did_ like to consider himself a quick study. “This is a terrible waste of valuable resources, I should add.”

His mortal made a very unladylike snort. “You’re just afraid of losing.”

Well, he couldn’t let that sort of insolence stand, could he? Reaching around her, he began to fold his own paper, attempting to improve upon her design. He had _centuries_ of experience with flying craft, after all; he should be far better at it than some common Midgardian.

“You go first,” she said, hopping to her feet.

Loki immediately missed her warmth, but he followed her lead, stepping around his desk. “Very well. Once we are done with this, will you leave me in peace?”

“Maybe.”

He sighed. The odds of him finishing his work before the evening meal seemed slim - particularly considering the fact that, if he won - as he fully expected to do - he would be sorely tempted to claim his prize at once. He drew back his arm and hurled the little paper airplane forward, startled and slightly dismayed when it veered down and to the left rather suddenly, not even making it entirely across the room.

“Harder than you thought?” she teased, smirking up at him, and Loki felt his cheeks heat. _Damn her;_ that smirk was going to be his undoing. She ran her thumbnail down the wing creases of her plane one more time, then held it close to her face, squinting at it thoughtfully. “I think that’s good.”

Loki was surprised by how little force she put behind her throw, and even _more_ surprised when the thing seemed to glide forward with ease. It was going to go past his plane. He was going to _lose._

He panicked.

A quick brush of power, just the _tiniest_ hint of magic, and her plane breezed to the right and into the fire. She rounded on him at once, lips parted in outrage, and Loki belatedly thought that perhaps he needed to learn to lose gracefully.

“You used magic!”

“Of course I didn’t,” he replied automatically, raising his hands innocently. “That would be against the rules.”

“You… Whatever,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “God of freaking _Lies._ Cheating counts as losing, which means that I win - and I was _going_ to win, anyways.”

“Possibly—”

“And you’re going to hold up your end of the deal, because otherwise I’m going to _vividly_ daydream about tonight all during dinner and make you _miserable.”_

His throat was dry. “Tonight?”

She had the nerve to _wink_ at him, then, patting him on the cheek. “Yeah. Since you’re going to be _so_ accommodating about my trip to Midgard, I’m kind of in the mood to hold up _my_ end of our wager, too.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm.” And then she dropped her blankets from around her, their bond-mark shiny on her skin, exposed by the wide neck of her tunic. “I’m going to go take a bath,” she said, practically strutting towards the door. “See you at dinner, _sire.”_

He allowed her to leave, his lip twitching in the faintest hint of a smile as the guard outside bowed and moved to trail behind her. “Until tonight,” he said, once the door had closed behind her, “my queen.”

 


End file.
